


Sleep Paralysis

by Secret_H



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Bad Ending, But maybe not as bad as the tags suggest, Certainly not as Light-hearted as the Summary Suggests, Child Death, Dracula is doing the most, Except for some, F/M, Harm to Children, Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Fanfiction, Like Whoa, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Multi, Non-Consensual, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Rape/Non-con Elements, There's A Tag For That, Vampires, Violence against minors, and a little - Freeform, do I need to mention the, i guess, not too bad, or rather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 21:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_H/pseuds/Secret_H
Summary: Dracula was not some common vampire: not a child of his children. He had beenpromisedeternal life with his eternal damnation by a being far beyond earthly things. So nothing on this earth could destroy him, nor would the stars beyond it.After taking some time to heal and prepare, he was finally ready to see his sweet, lovely obsessions once more. And perhaps welcome a new member into the doomed family.





	Sleep Paralysis

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Most Loving Couple](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359055) by [Jason_Jay_C](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jason_Jay_C/pseuds/Jason_Jay_C). 



> Well, I firmly believe that Dracula has a yet to be discovered and properly indulged Daddy Kink, so uh, keep that in mind.

Quincey was a little over two years old. He was lively, soft all over, and exceedingly loving. Mina thought he was ready for a toddler bed at this point, she couldn’t stand the thought of him being caged in if he ever wanted to get out. Jonathan was disposed to wait until Quincey showed dissatisfaction about his sleeping arrangements. The toddler was rather intelligent at that, and the father figured that when they started to wake up to find the boy had escaped his crib, then would be the time for action. It was a discussion they had had on multiple occasions, though not one they were long for; Quincey would be three in less than a year’s time. 

And time had moved so fast, so quickly, that these last three years felt like a dream. Mina in particular was quite aware of it, given her brush with near eternity. It was as if her mind was now fitted to experience centuries that would never come, and she was stuck languishing on ideas of how quickly this would all end, and how much she wanted it to go on forever. (But those were traitorous thoughts.) Jonathan felt it too, though less pervasively, looking up every once in a while to marvel at his life and how much had happened in seemingly no time at all. It was like a dream: a perfect, lovely dream that came to sooth the terror after an awful nightmare. 

Except that you don't have beautiful dreams after nightmares. Nightmares linger on your mind so that you cannot bring yourself to close your eyes for fear that they will start all over again. Or pick up exactly where they left off. You do not have good dreams after a nightmare, but they can be a pleasant surprise after a bad day. You can dream of a happy ending, where the monster is defeated, evil is vanquished, and everyone lives happily ever after. 

Eventually, though, you will have to wake up: sooner than you might imagine. 

There was a monster standing over their child’s crib. Their beautiful Quincey, nose wrinkling cutely as its hair hung like a curtain, tickling his sleep-flushed face. The scene was artfully lit by the light of the full moon, which landed uncompromisingly on the babe and the beast above him. Mina barely registered the pain in her shoulders as Jonathan gripped them in terror. Her mind seemed to stall, the world that was always moving so fast, coming to an abrupt halt. The lovely couple stood in the doorway of the nursery in their own home, unable to cross the threshold. Surely this was a dream, a nightmare. Surely it could not be in their house, looming over their son, reaching out with its long, cold fingers to touch his soft, warm face. 

“Don’t!” Jonathan cried out, his voice sounding jarringly loud in the stillness. He seemed surprised at his own gall, though he was the only one. 

Mina allowed this one word to fill her with a strength that she knew would prove ultimately useless. Just as she knew that she had to try. Jonathan was always so afraid of moving forward too quickly or suddenly, and he nearly drowned in horror when it crept upon him, but somehow he was the type of person who never froze in the face of danger. He was a true example of fight or flight in a way that was rare enough to be admired. 

Their shared monster looked up at them, its eyes at once vindictive and fond. “Lovely Harker, Sweet Mina, you have truly created a beautiful child.” 

The Count gently caressed the snoozing toddler’s cheek. He had to look down again to marvel at the feel of it. So soft and smooth and warm. He had never experienced more than a passing interest in children, and never as more than a slightly more easily captured food source. However, the fact that it was the child of his most fervent obsessions, and that they had come together to create a new life, something of them, but wholly different and so defenseless… Yes, he would have the child, as well. 

The couple took their minor advantage at the monster’s enraptured state and shared a glance. There was not much to say between them. There was no doubt that no matter the reason the Count had darkened their doorstep once more, whether for vengeance or to complete its evil work, they would not both be making it out alive. The love that they shared need not be restated, just an understanding that their beautiful Quincey’s life was worth more than their sum. They needed to get him away. 

Quincey awoke with a cry as a red welt was drawn across his plump cheek. The Count pulled away slightly in surprise, and the couple stepped apart. Jonathan followed against the left wall, trying to make himself small. Mina moved to the right, staring the monster down. “Count.” She stated, so clearly one might have thought that she did not wish to scream in despair. 

But the Count could smell her fear and her hopelessness and her resolve. Emotions not as deep as Jonathan’s, but with more nuance than the man’s contending panic and resolution. It was a marvel that a society determined to neuter and weaken its people had somehow created such a strong couple who had managed to find each other. And was it any surprise that the Count had found them in turn, shining so brightly apart from the rest of the masses. 

The Count pulled entirely away from the whimpering child, looking to his runaway bride. No… his future wife. “Sweet Mina. How I’ve longed to lay these eyes on you once more. And yet, instead of being quenched, I find my unresolved lusts stoked even madder.” 

The Count heard two hearts jump as a delightful one, truly a perfect couple. His eyes tracked Mina as she navigated around the soft-colored bureau, her eyes never leaving the monster, yet at the same time never meetings its gaze. 

“I see that you’ve ended your masquerade as a gentleman. I suppose there’s no need for it, as we know the beast that you struggle to hide.” The Count watched with mild interest as she used her body to block her hand grasping for the rosary on the diaper table. It was a curios to him that this couple did not have more in the way of defenses against his kind, but then they had no doubt thought him well and gone, and otherwise were not overly beholden to any religious beliefs. 

“I have never held any guise as a ‘gentleman’. I have always been what I am, both man and beast depending on my whim or the strength of the moon.” Mina gripped the gift from Van Helsing in her hand, slowly drawing the wooden beads towards her to keep them from rattling. “I would say it is you who plays the part with false pretense. How dispassionately you pretend that that cross does not disturb you.” 

There was a pause. 

Jonathan forced himself to focus on his path. Quincey turned his watery eyes to his father, who struggled to smile reassuringly. In the end, he simply made a silent hushing motion to the boy, who playfully covered his mouth, astoundingly unbothered by the growing tension of the room. 

“Why are you here?” Mina asked, grasping the rosary completely in her hand, her body stiff. 

“Why…To take back what is mine.” Count Vlad Dracula stood to his full height, his eyes blazing down at Mina. She bit back a whimper as the shadows of the room were drawn out of their natural shapes to reach out to him, warping the light and softening the lines of the world until it all seemed to haze. It was hard for her eyes not to be drawn to his, glowing like red fire through smoke. She felt her strength being crushed by the weight of his presence as he deliberately glided towards her. “We have been in such a sorry state recovering from your betrayals. The time it took to heal, and then to prepare for your arrival. The time to get situated to a new world. I have never felt the passage of it so slowly than these last few years. The Sisters are eager to run wild, but even more eager to see you again. My _cruel_ Mina. 

“And **vicious** Harker.” 

The Count’s head whipped around, and the sound of her child’s cry of fear at the heavy attention of the monster of the family’s undying nightmare forced Mina into action. She threw herself forward, her stinging hand out stretched to strike. The Count turned his attention back to her, catching her hand in his and his gaze with hers. But even his geas could not stop her from reacting to the pain as the rosary they cupped together burst into flames. 

Jonathan swooped to grab young Quincey, who once again was distressed, this time by his mother’s screams. The man only spared a glance to his wife and the demon that would consume her, before tucking his boy's head into his shoulder and running for the threshold. 

It was only because of his focus that he managed to turn his shoulder into the motion as the door abruptly slammed shut. He bounced off rather hard, keeping his grip on his now crying son. 

The Count pulled their burned hands apart, catching Mina’s limp body with the other. He shook the ashes from his already healed flesh, unhappy about the damage done to his sleeve as well as his Sweet Mina, temporary though that was. Her eyes didn’t waver from his, didn’t blink even as they teared up. He recaptured Mina’s wrist instead of her burned hand, bringing it up chastely kiss her curled palm. “My Sweet Mina. So strong, so daring, so awful. You were made for more than this life of entrapment in a society that seeks to destroy you. I will give you it all, and all the time in the world to enjoy it.” 

Despite his words of her strength, he was ever so gentle as drew her forward, laving her flesh with soft nips and sucking kisses, drawing her hips towards him. He would certainly miss the effortless heat radiating through her dressing gown, but London was full of people that could disappear without a mention. Certainly it would not be too hard to keep her nice and full. 

Mina found her gaze directed at the ceiling, looking at nothing, but unable to shift her eyes, no matter how much she wanted to catch a glance of her husband and son. She could hear Quincey crying and Jonathan’s struggles with the door. She had to have hope. They had to escape. 

She couldn’t focus on them, however, as the Count kept her in suspense, a flinch unexpressed every time his teeth caught at the tender skin of her neck. The hand supporting her took heedless liberties with her body, petting her curves, gripping her bottom, before resting on her hip and clawing at her thin gown, drawing it up to expose her skin to his cold, smooth hands. It was a relief to not be able to hear her own soft cries over the sound of her husband beating at the nursery door. 

Then, despite knowing the outcome, it was a surprise when the beast finally bit down. 

It was strange to feel her life’s blood being sucked from her body, not nearly as shockingly painful as the last time that she could remember. It stung; it felt draining in a way that was not only physical, but it was also fulfilling, as if this moment was a long time coming. It was an almost sensual experience, the pain was not unlike the first time she had given herself to…Jonathan. Quincey! 

With a strength she didn’t know that she had, she managed to force her eyes to her husband, their child wrapped around his leg, hiding the boy’s face. Jonathan was never a dominating figure, never overly ambitious, and certainly didn’t intimidate in his sleeping clothes with his overly long, white and grey hair looking affright, but he had managed to bash a sizable way through the thick oak door of the nursery. Her vision fading in and out, Mina allowed herself a moment of hopefulness before she was dropped quite unceremoniously, gasping as fangs jarred from her throat. 

She fell bonelessly, bloodlessly, blacking out for a moment, but she was not given the mercy of unconsciousness. Instead, she watched. 

Jonathan had just managed to nudge young Quincey through the hole, before he was dragged back by pale hands that seemed to fade into his colorless hair. He only just managed to not make any noise that were too undignified, as his legs collapsed uselessly under him. In a moment of aimless panic, he reached up to claw uselessly at the Count’s hand. Then he remembered his ultimate concern, catching his son’s frightened gaze through the door, as the toddler clutched at the jagged edges of the hole, seemly ready to crawl back in. He could hardly manage to put on a less than terrified face, but he needed the boy to focus on him, and not the monster looming over him. “Quincey, my boy, you need to run, okay. You need to run to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Please, just-“ 

Jonathon choked as has his mouth was half covered, cold finger shoved passed his lips to press down on his tongue. They tasted like char and blood, and Jonathon almost bit down in surprise more than anything before he remembered what the consequences of such an action could be. The man found his head wrenched back with excessive force, and suddenly it was hard to remember his duty. It was hard to think about anything, but the Count and his burning red eyes. And yet as before, it was Jonathan’s absolute terror coupled with his determination to protect his loved one that kept him aware. 

“My Lovely Harker. So gentle, so brave, so dreadful. You deserve all the gentleness in the world, to be kept and coddled, safe from fear. But first you need to learn you place, starting with facing the consequences of overstepping: truly, deeply, effusively.” The Count was vicious as he near unhinged his jaw to tear into Jonathan’s throat with little warning. The man would have the Count’s gentleness when he learned to not resist and to let himself be had. Until then, Count Vlad Dracula would enjoy punishing the man as frequently and forcefully as necessary. The Sisters would as well, hopefully enough to not be obvious in their displeasure of not getting to taste their wayward prey. 

Mores the pity, as Jonathan proved to be an unexpected delicacy. The Count almost regretted his choice not to savor this meal, but mostly his mind was empty as piquant life gushed into his mouth without effort on his part. Sooner than he liked, his Lovely Harker was bled dry, and the Count was found himself licking away at the mess that was the man’s bloodied throat. He chuckled to himself in irony, truly he was more beast than man tonight. 

Laying Jonathan’s lifeless body down, it was with a full belly that he turned his attention to the Beautiful Quincey, curled out of sight on the other side of the door. The toddler was surprisingly quiet, crying almost soundlessly to himself. Of course, his father had told him to run, but where does a babe go when scared or hurt but to the comfort of their mother’s bosom or the strength of their father’s arms. 

The door to the nursery opened unexpectedly, the toddler falling inward from where he was leaning. He caught sight of the monster crouched over his lifeless, bloody father and screamed. So Mina watched in desolation as her dear Quincey caught sight of her, her bloodless form, her open leaking eyes and stumbled to unsteady feet, drawn to her. Her throat hurt, along with her hand and heart, but she struggled to speak. “D-don’t.” 

She watched as her son only sped up, trust in the protection she could give renewed at the sound of her voice, but he never made it to her. 

The Count snatched the toddling Quincey up, unknowingly holding the child in a way that was uncomfortable for both of them, but curious about the squirming boy in a way that he had never been about any other human child, even when he had a beating heart. He gripped the back of the toddler’s neck, unsurprised when it reacted by freezing in submission like any young animal. “The Beautiful Quincey: so soft and new. What to do with you? It hardly seems sensible to keep you so small forever, and yet it is quite tempting. Would you grow to resent it, or would your mind stay as ageless as your body? Something to think on.” 

In the end, the Count merely sampled from the boy. It was rather lucky that he had gorged on the child’s parents, as it was the only thing that kept from draining the boy dry. Reluctantly, Dracula pulled away from his meal, the boy’s blood beyond anything he had ever imagined. Putting the toddler to sleep, the Count wondered if that was so surprising, considering his parentage. Truly, the family was a feast of delights. 

Depositing the boy back into his strange topless cage, the Count gather his future wife and husband together. He noticed with mild surprise that his Sweet Mina was conscious and crying more silently than her child had managed. With red stained fingers, he wiped away her tears, and her unfocused eyes were drawn to him. “Sweet Mina, do not despair. You will have your husband and your child as before. But more than that, I will have you all, and so you will have eternity as well. 

“You will come to love being mine.” The Count said, slitting his wrist. He brought it to Jonathan’s mouth, wary of the man’s body being too long dead. “I have so many things to teach you, so many sins to treat you to, and we can discover all of the hidden aspects of this new world together.” 

After bleeding into her husband's mouth for a time, the Count turned to Mina. The taste of his blood was familiar, something she had had forgotten dreams about, and she found herself biting down, eagerly drawing it in, following as he pulled away. The Count murmured in amusement. “What a veracious appetite you have. I do not believe the world is ready for you.” 

Mina lay on her back, alarmingly content with a belly full of blood. It was clear to her now that they had only delayed the inevitable, but she was still saddened by the fact that they had dragged a child into this hell on earth with them. Her eyes grew heavy as she mused to herself, uninterested as she was thrown over the Count's shoulder. 

Dracula effortlessly balanced his Sweet Mina over his right shoulder, as he tucked the Beautiful Quincey under the same arm, before stabilizing himself with his Lovely Jonathan in the other. He let out a sigh of delight at a night well spent, happy to relieve the three year itch of obsession with the lovely couple. Gathering his most precious possessions tight to him, he disincorporated into shadow and mist, quickly making his way to the new castle he had acquired. 

With hardly a thought, he set the home of the family alight, mindless of the effects they might want or neighbors that could be caught in the blaze. He would give them everything that they could ever desire, asking for naught in return but their love, respect and obedience. Their bodies, their hearts, and their souls. A small price to pay, really, for his eternal devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, my man Drac is so extra. And my poor Jonathan is in for a not great next couple of years, but what can you expect when you break a man's heart by pulverizing it with a stake? Consequences, that's what. 
> 
> Anyway this was written in like four hours a day after running through the Count Dracula/John Harker tag, so here ya go. I'm actually pretty happy about how this turned out? As you can see, this is based around a specific story that I read, but I also pulled a bit of Dracula's character from the character as written by Assimbya, who found on this site and FFN. 
> 
> I mean, they are not the same, for sure. Their Dracula is such an asshole, and while my Drac is vindictive, callous, vicious, and all around incapable of loving a person in anyway that a living creature would want directed at them, he isn't a technical sadist, for what it's worth. 
> 
> He does want to take care of and indulge Jonathan and Mina. As long as they behave, he would be their slave. He's even willing to try his hand at raising a child, until he can discover the consequences of changing one, at least.
> 
> Real talk, though, should I lower the rating on this fic? Update: Never mind; it's lowered.


End file.
